A Life Well Kept
by Tippy.LaRoux
Summary: When Remus hurls himself back in time, he is taking a risk. Will he make it? What changes can he elicit if he does? This is a Travelers!AU written for QLFC Falcons - there is a lot more to add, but I had a word count to adhere to. lmk if you want more ;)


Warning: multiple character deaths

Travelers!AU

In case you aren't familiar with the Travelers universe: It's a show where people go back in time via jumping in to someone's body right before they are supposed to die.

. **oOo**.

 _"There hasn't been a confirmed jump yet, Remus. Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Albus Dumbledore asks as you make final preparations to hurl your consciousness through centuries past. The Travelers program is the last hope for this dying planet; a chance to get it right._

 _"No, Albus, this has to be done. For our future." You aren't willing to negotiate this any longer. The last twenty years of your life was spent preparing for this moment, it will not be for naught. Once it was discovered you were 'different,' you were singled out. Once it came to light how well your brain retains information, you were funneled into the Traveler program._

 _"No one is truly sure if you will make it. Remus, this is your last chance to back out. Once you leave, you can't come back." Albus is watching you. He has that look in his eyes, as though weighing your response. Making sure you are ready to go on a mission no one believes you will even survive. The one he has been grooming you for since he plucked you out of the huddled masses all those years ago._

 _"There isn't anything for me here." You look the old man square in the face. His eyes seem to light up when they see the determination reflecting from yours. "I've waited this long, yet suddenly now I'm impatient." Your hands shake as the final preparations are made. You know who he is, and you know where he will be. Where you will be when this is all said and done. So many tests confirmed the results that you know are correct. Even if the rest of the world doesn't think this program is ready; you do._

 **Recorded time of death: 3:47**

Racing down the stairs in the dingy subway station, you feel the warm whoosh of air pushing up at you and you watch in disappointment as the train speeds down the tracks. It was supposed to take you to the pub down the street from your godson's home. He is likely already there; waiting impatiently, because you finally got a chance to talk to him. Tonight, you are going to finally tell him about his parents and answer all the questions you saw in his eyes the last time you met. Checking your watch to confirm that you still have a few minutes; as long as the next train is on time you'll make it.

As you get to the platform and the train disappears from sight, a few of the long hairs that have pulled free of the loose knot at the nape of your neck make a curious attempt to stand on end. It's as though someone is watching you. But, the station cleared out for the last train, and you are the first one here waiting for the next one scheduled to arrive in a little under four minutes.

"I thought that was you, dear cousin." You feel her warm breath in your left ear. A shiver runs up your spine, and a block of ice forms in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm sorry, but you are mistaken. I don't have a cousin. Hell, I don't even have a family," you bite back, not daring to turn around. Delaying the inevitable, you stare ahead and begin to count the number of aquamarine tiles on the subway walls, thinking back to the first time you saw the ocean. You occupy your mind with happy thoughts; steadfastly attempting to avoid dark brown eyes glittering in triumph, or a sneer of repugnance on the face of your former cousin—Bellatrix Lestrange.

She grabs your arm—when had she gotten so strong? The last time you saw her she was a skinny teenager. She pulls you around and you are staring down into her eyes. The anger you feel towards your family is usually kept to heel on a short leash, but not today. Not with her.

"I knew it was you, Sirius Black. You can't fool me." Your cheek is suddenly stinging and a red welt in the shape of a handprint is forming on your face. Mother and Father instilled propriety from such a young age that the instinct against fighting a female has taken control of your faculties. Grabbing at her arms instead, you try to keep her advances at bay. Wrapping your arms around her feels like you are trying to control a nest of snakes from her wriggling and hissing. She breaks your hold, and spinning on her heel, she shoves you backwards. You attempt to stop the onslaught of rage. But something is wrong. Something is very wrong, and you don't know what.

A sharp pain begins clawing at the back of your head. It's as though a storm of fire ants invaded your brain through a portal in your spinal column. The searing pain is too much, and screaming out, because you can't hold it in any longer, you drop to your knees in front of the woman who is shouting curses, hurling insults and fists at you. The scream that fills the empty cavern of the subway echoes and undulates. You want it to stop, all of it; the searing pain, that bitch screaming, the god awful howling. The burning is in your throat now, the screams that fill the void are yours.

"That's right," she yells down. "Pain demands to be felt." But, you aren't screaming in pain from any hurt she inflicted. This is different. Your hands pull at black hair; attempting to tear it away from the fire burning in your skull. This is primordial, you think; this must be what it feels like to die. The world goes suddenly black.

 **Recorded time of death: 0:29**

 _You've found him, you can feel him fighting against the invasion of another consciousness in his head. It is dark, but as light slowly filters in, there is a scene unfolding in front of you._

 _The only thing in focus is the young boy holding a stuffed dog. He's in his nightclothes, as are you, and you feel an urge to comfort and protect the little boy._

 _"Reg, I know it's scary sometimes, but it'll be okay. Now, we need to be quiet and get back to sleep before someone hears us." The words come out as a hushed whisper of the sleepy adolescent you are._

 _"Who'll help me go back to sleep when I have bad dreams? You're going to be leaving soon for school, and I'll be here all alone. With them." The little boy looks up to you with eyes rubbed red, tears streaming down cheeks still holding onto the last chubby visage of childhood._

 _"Well, that's why I gave you Padfoot, see? He's the fiercest guard dog this side of the Mississippi. He'll always protect you. Just snuggle him close, and whisper your fears to him. He'll make sure I know, and we'll both keep you safe." You pull the boy close in a comforting hug, before urging him to lay down on the fluffy pillow beside you. Pulling the soft blankets over him, you tuck him in for the night..._

 _The little boy fades away, and he is replaced by a much bigger boy. Looking down, you realize you are both dressed in school uniforms. This new boy has a head full of dark unruly hair. His eyes are sparkling with mischief as he holds a hand out to you._

 _"Come on, Sirius. Let's see what is down that corridor." You grab his hand and the both of you run headlong into a dark passage. Both stifling giggles of apparent mischief behind your hands..._

 _You're stronger now; grown. A man flying down a ribbon of asphalt. The vibrating beast of a machine growls beneath you and with a twist of the throttle, it shoots forward down Highway 1. The thrill of speed and freedom of the open air renew your soul. Pulling around the next corner, a breath catches in your throat. The clear azure sky, dotted with a few white clouds scattered across it, meld with the aquamarine waters of the Pacific Ocean. It is the most at peace you have ever been. The open road laid out before you, all stress and troubles forgotten…_

 _The next few scenes flash through so quickly all you catch are hands grasping yours, eyes flashing gold, before the pupils overtake the irises and they go almost black. Soft kisses on your shoulder. The satisfied feeling of being loved thoroughly, and being able to give it in return..._

 _Suddenly you are spinning a lovely girl in a white dress around a small dancefloor. She smiles up to you, her eyes glassy from too much champagne—her eyes are emeralds and her hair is fire. You pull her close and breathe her in, words of love and adoration fall from your lips, as you smile over to your best friend. The boy with the unruly hair walks over, grabbing the waist of the beautiful creature, spinning her out of your arms._

 _"Watch yourself, Sirius. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were attempting to run away with my bride on our wedding day."_

 _"No, James, I just needed to make sure Lily knew she had options. In case you cock this up." You wink over to the girl and she brushes off your flirtations, as she always does, and turns to stare into the eyes of her husband as though they are the only two people left on earth..._

 _You know this is the last. Sirius is losing the battle, his time is up. You can tell he knows it. Now, you are sitting in a comfortable living room somewhere, holding the hand of a young man. He looks up at you, his eyes glassy from holding back tears—his eyes are emeralds, but his hair is a wild tumble of coal black waves, not the fire of his mothers._

 _"Harry, I am your godfather. You might not remember me, but I remember you." Pulling a tattered photo from your coat pocket, you show him the picture taken at his parents wedding. The memory of that evening got you through so many tough nights._

 _"I don't understand; if I had a godfather, why did I have to go live with those awful people? Where were you?" Harry looks at you; anger and confusion fight for dominance in his eyes, a questioning glare finally wins out._

 _"For now, we leave it at this: I would have been here if I could've? We can meet again next week at a little pub down the street. If we got there at… say, ten, it would give us a few hours to talk more. What do you say, Harry?" The boy looks back at you, eyes so much like his mother's that your heart breaks. The slight nod that shakes his head must be his way of reluctantly accepting. At least, you take it as a yes—it has to be a yes; he needs to know. He needs to hear what amazing people his parents were._

 _"Alright, Harry," the scene begins to fade. "Harry," your lips say again. "Harry," one last time, and you can feel Sirius leave. His battle lost, and yours just beginning. The world fades back to black._

 **Recorded time of death: 0:00**

You hear the train coming; the ground beneath your knees shakes, and you open your eyes for the first time in the twenty-first century. Bellatrix looks down on you with a quizzical expression on her face. As you stop screaming, and struggle to your feet, she takes a few steps backwards, and you know what comes next. Filling your lungs with air, another roar fills the empty space. "Come on, you can do better than that!"

Your legs are strong, holding you firm, but she comes barreling at you anyway. Stepping to the side at the last second, you watch as she falters, unable to correct her trajectory. Instead, she is the one that falls into the dark recesses of the tracks—just as the train careens into the station.

The first thing you really focus on is the headlight shining on her; the short scream that fills the empty station is for once—and only for a second—not yours. Then, you hear the screeching breaks as the train tries to stop, but can't. The first part of your mission complete, now to dodge out of the station and get to a computer so you can reach out into the dark web and make contact with the future—with Dumbledore—so plans can be made to right the wrongs of this world.

 **Traveler time: 0:02:03**

Your mind is forcing itself into every nook and cranny, making itself fit into Sirius's—your—body. These legs are longer than the ones you're used to. It makes rushing up the subway stairs a bit awkward. As you step free of the shade of the buildings, you see the unfettered sunlight that is definitely not from your time. The air around you feels cooler, and as you slowly breathe through your nose, the first deep, clean lung full of air you've ever had, you know you made the right choice. Why would you want to stay in a world that is broken, when you have a chance to go back and fix it for the better?

Walking through the streets to the apartment—to your apartment—you begin to map out the next twenty-four hours. Taking note of where things are in this time, and the places you will need to go. This was just a test, so there may not even be a way to communicate with Dumbledore in the future. Only time will tell.

 **Traveler time: 3 weeks 2 days**

You walk to the park. It is supposed to be raining today, but you've never felt it falling on your face, so you don't take an umbrella with you. You're walking over to a bench where an older gentleman with an eyepatch sits. He falls to his knees, and the scene feels familiar. He clutches at his chest, and pulls on his hair before letting out a painful scream. After the panic subsides, and the man makes it back to his feet, you walk over.

"Traveler 0001.," you stick out your hand to introduce yourself.

"Traveler 0325," the man replies, taking the proffered hand in a rather awkward handshake.

"Welcome to the twenty-first."

 **57 years later Recorded time of final death: 0:29**

 _He's found you again, you can feel him slipping back into your—his—head. It is dark, but as light slowly filters in, there is a scene unfolding in front of you._

 _You're learning your new body. Flying down a ribbon of asphalt that seems familiar, on a motorcycle that doesn't. Shooting down Highway 1, you want to experience everything neither you, nor your host, would've. The aquamarine waters of the Pacific Ocean crash upon the rocky cliffs below. This is what it feels like to be free..._

 _You stand from a table and raise a glass to a young man that smiles up to you from the head table, his eyes glassy from too much champagne—his eyes are emeralds and the young lady holding his hand, and sharing his name, has hair like fire._

 _"To Harry. The best godson an old man could ask for. Since the day he let me into his life, except that one we agreed to never talk about," you wink up to him, "He has grown into a man his parents would have been proud of. And to Ginny, the thief that stole his heart. May the two of you grow old together, and your cup of love forever runneth over._

 _"To Harry and Ginny!" Your toast elicits the appropriate response from the crowd, and a resounding, "To Harry and Ginny," echoes back to you. Harry turns to stare into the eyes of his new wife as though they are the only two people left on earth..._

 _You know this is the last. You, Remus, are losing the battle, your time is up. Two hundred years before you were born, and more than fifty years after this body should have died. You have a thousand memories you want to replay for the real Sirius you feel within you on this last journey. But running out of time, you find the best one and show him…_

 _You're sitting in a large room with mistletoe hanging from the doorways, and a stately tree in the front window. It's hung with ornaments made for you by your 'grandchildren,' and a few even from the next generation. Your godson, Harry, has hair that faded to a soft silver. His emerald eyes sparkle when he looks around him. His wife, Ginny, standing beside him, with one hand on his shoulder, and the other holding onto the hand of a sticky toddler._

 _The room is filled with the warm smells of the holiday: turkey roasting in the oven, clove studded oranges on the mantle, the sharp tannins from a fresh cut pine tree, and smoke from the fire slowly crackling in the fireplace. Someone is plunking out 'The Christmas Song,' on an upright piano in the corner of the room. There is a twinkle to the room, that isn't just the lights on the tree. Love shone in the eyes of everyone around you—even the surly teenagers, and the spouses that hadn't quite figured out how to work through holidays—still had a smile to give the little ones, and a hug to give their parents._

 _This was what you wanted to show Sirius—you, the real you. The missions ended, but long before that, the most important one was building a life you—he—could be proud of. Making the the most of a life that was meant to end. The scene flickers and you hold on as long as you can, until finally the world fades to black._

 _.oOo._

 _A/N:_

Qlfc y6-r8- Falmouth Falcon- CHASER 3: Theme - believing in the unbelievable even when nobody else does.(dialogue) "I've waited this long, yet suddenly now I'm impatient."(phrase) on his/her knees(colour) aquamarine

HW- Ravenclaw

 **Muggle Cultures-Task 4:** Write about someone travelling (using either Muggle or wizarding transportation)

Hufflepuff- 2nd yearShort - wc [2996 per Google Docs]Prompt: [Speech] "Pain demands to be felt."

WC

Character Appreciation- Queenie-#27- plot point: reunion

Disney - Characters #1 Mowgli - Write about someone who struggles with change.  
Showtime #2 - Angel of Music - (emotion) Frightened

Buttons: song 5 - surprise yourself

Lyric Alley - #16- there comes a time in a short life

Ami's Audio - #7 - The Biggest Room — Write about a character doing or experiencing something unbelievable.

Angels Arcade - #9 - E-123 Omega: (au) futuristic, (word) dark, (action) walking

Lo's Lowdown - #10 - Ty Lee - write about someone whose appearance is deceiving.

Bex's Basement #8 - Esio Trot - Write about someone lying for a good cause.


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